


Choked Up

by chimaeracabra



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Choking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hubby!Steve, Husbands, Stress Relief, Wedding Fluff, breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:32:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra
Summary: Steve's fiancée convinces him to choke her.





	Choked Up

**Author's Note:**

> I got so angry today. Voilà.

            "I _don't_ want my dad there, Steve, and I won't tell you again," Eden states, slamming the back door, which causes Steve to start, looking up from the dishwasher and pausing where he had been unloading the clean dishes into the cabinets. His wide, blue gaze meets Eden standing there in her candy mulberry Dickies scrub pants and black tank top, jabbing away at her Galaxy S6 in frantic attempts to respond to her best friend's texts.

            "I thought you said you had a book club meeting at the ice cream shop down the street," Steve says gently, not wanting to increase his fiancée's anger. She sighs in a huge huff.

            "I just _did_ , Steve," she groans, "Where do you think I've been for the past seventy-five minutes?"

            "Well, you look like you were going to work—"

            "I just didn't have any more clean pants. And I would _never_ wear a tank top in a psychiatric hospital. Some of the patients are sex offenders, you know. And I don’t need to draw any more attention to myself than is necessary."

She won't look over at him; Eden is sitting there rubbing her temples anxiously with closed eyes.

            "…Sorry, Steve…I'm just…"

He sighs, continuing to carefully place the last few plates in the cupboards.

            "I can't reach the professor for my anatomy and physiology class—which starts on _Monday_ , I don't have the fuckin' textbook yet—!" Eden groans, cutting herself off midsentence.

            "S-sorry, Stevie. None of this is your fault," she says, realizing she had yelled at him as soon as she made it through the door. He smiles halfheartedly, placing his closed fists on his hips.

            "I'm just… _really_ angry that you brought up my dad again. I don't want him in my life, and I sure as shit do not want him at my wedding. I've told you before, honey…"

Steve frowns slightly. All Eden has ever told him about her father in their three years together is that her dad was never a nice person, did not treat her mother well, and took half of her mother's retirement fund in a messy divorce when Eden was 25, merely out of spite, even when he had been making a six-figure salary the entire time. But Steve always thought that getting married was a one-time thing, and that one day Eden would regret it if her dad wasn't there to give her away.

            " _Please_ , Steve. He doesn't even _know_ about you. I will not be able to walk down the aisle if he shows up. He doesn't know, and I want to _keep_ it that way."

            "Understood, honey," Steve says, making his way towards Eden when he can see her eyes welling up and her face beginning to contort into its expression of pain, the one he knows means she's about to cry. He clutches her waist in her chair, and she at last cries out loud.

            "I just want everything to _work_. I have been trying to do this for so long now, and I'm so goddamn close, I can taste it. I don't want to work with crazy people for the rest of my life, Steve. PA school is my last shot."

            "Shh…you're just working too hard, baby. It's all gonna be fine. I know you'll do perfectly fine in your class. It's only, what, five weeks? And then the wedding is right after that. Think of it as your reward," Steve explains. By now, Eden has gravitated out of her seat and into the Captain's arms. He holds her securely. She needed this, for him to hold her. It often felt as though he was holding her together. That's how strong he was. When she finally pulls back a ways to meet his eyes, she realizes her bareMinerals foundation has stained his white t-shirt. At the sight of the tan powder on his fitted shirt, Eden laughs.

            "I'm sorry," she sniffles.

            "'s okay, sweet pea. I was just about to do laundry, anyway." Steve was always bustling about her house, doing that kind of thing. Letting him move in with her was the best decision Eden has ever made, aside from agreeing to marry him. Suddenly, she feels a lot calmer, as Steve carries on about how beautiful their wedding is going to be, promising her he will not bring up her father again. As he breezes towards the fridge to pull her favorite Sutter Home moscato out of the back and pour her a full glass, she sits down again at the kitchen table, pulling her pretty copy of Commonwealth with its orange-laden cover out of her purse and placing it on the table top.

            "How was the book?" Steve asks, placing the glass on a coaster in front of her, taking a seat beside her, and pulling Eden's feet atop his lap. As she sighs, thanking him and closing her eyes for the first sip of wine, he starts to pull the black J-41s off her feet. The sensation of his thumbs grazing deeply into the soles of her foot are enough to nearly bring Eden to orgasm. She allows her head to fall back, sinking down in her chair.

            "I didn't finish it," she says, "I got to page one forty-four…and the ladies all talked. I mostly listened. I think I've made some good new friends…like, people _my own age_ I didn’t even know lived next door to me…ahhhh…"

She can hear the smile in Steve's voice when he speaks again, "What was it about?" he asks, dropping Eden's other shoe onto the floor and tending to the newly freed foot.

            "These kids…the dad, uhm…ruins this other guy's family…the kids grow up together. Apparently, one of them dies," Eden explains, at last opening her eyes to find Steve intently gazing at her, his hands rubbing the workweek out of the arches of her feet. She had met her step goal at work on the evening shift the previous day; it's an easy feat to accomplish when she works on the kid's unit of the hospital.

            "Hmmm, sounds depressing," Steve admits, cocking a wheat gold eyebrow at the book that's sitting face-up on the table.

            "I know. I didn’t finish it. Not sure I'm gonna before my class starts," Eden sighs, taking a larger sip of moscato. Steve starts on her ankles now.

            "Oh my god, Steve…where'd you learn to massage like that? Did you ever think of doing it professionally?"

And he laughs.

            "I don't massage anyone but you, Edie," he admits, looking a little disturbed that she'd told him to make work out of it. It's just something that he does for her, and he can't imagine touching anyone else the same way.

            "You're _really_ good at this. It's 'cause your hands are strong…Well…goddamn, Steve. A second ago I was super stressed out. And now I'm…" she moans lightly, dropping her head back. Eden wishes that Steve would massage her throat with this same pressure, but the last time she had prompted him to do such a thing, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not trusting his own strength.

            "Mmmm," she moans, grabbing his wrists, her fingers hardly wrapping their circumference.

            "Was I too rough?" Steve asks, suddenly breaking his hands free of her calf. Eden shakes her head for no and guides his hands back to her leg, higher up, above the knee. He watches her push her waist forward, nearly toppling out of her chair.

            "You alright, sweet pea?" he asks. She locks eyes with him and he knows that look. Steve's pulse quickens a few beats and the corner of his plush lips turn up slightly. Eden pops out of her chair to climb into his lap, straddling him. He finds himself immediately smothered in her kisses, a mildly pleasant alcoholic flavor hanging on her tongue. He should have known what this foot massage was going to lead to; all of his massages, regardless of how nonsexual he intended them to be, turned Eden on. He grips her around the waist fast, so that she doesn't slide off him onto the floor. The material of her scrub pants slips against his khakis, making it harder for her to stay in place. She pauses in kissing him to tug at the pants with frustration.

            "Wow, we're going there already?" Steve asks teasingly, cocking a brow as Eden stands on her two feet to pull the pants down.

            "Yes. Because you should have known not to give me any type of massage," Eden explains hastily. Steve's eyes catch the open kitchen shade.

            "Shit," he mutters under his breath, not wanting Eden to hear him swear. At this, she laughs. He never swears, and hates it even more when she does it herself. He stands to go and close the blind, already half erect under the thick fabric of his pants. Before he even has a chance to turn around, Eden wraps her arms around him tightly, pressing her lips into the center of his back. He smiles. When her lips pull away, she gasps.

            "You're gonna hate me, Stevie…I just got lipgloss on your shirt," she explains. Steve laughs, turning around to scoop Eden up in his arms so that the height difference doesn't stop her from reaching him.

            "Well, then ya better start kissing me in the right places," he says, meeting her for the entanglement of lips that keeps them standing there for longer than either had planned. She seemed insatiable at times, and Steve knew he was lucky for the serum, otherwise he might not have been able to keep his fiancée satisfied. Her stress dictated their sex life; the more she endured, the more she'd initiate. And Steve didn't mind always having her so close, and would always oblige if only to alleviate that stress for a little while.

            Steve turns to place Eden on the counter top. She gasps at the coldness of the marble against her behind; it is an unwanted chill when compared to Steve's warm hands, which gripped her there moments prior. Suddenly, she pulls out of the kiss and guides his hands to her neck. Steve cocks a brow.

            "Choke me," she orders, and Steve's gaze widens, "Come on—just a little bit, Stevie," she begs, grinning and pressing his fingers to nudge into her windpipe.

            "I'm not gonna choke you," he explains, clutching her waist and looking at her like she's lost her mind. Eden urges him, guiding his hands back to her throat, and nodding. Steve looks at her worriedly.

            "Just gently, Stevie. _Please_?" she asks. He had been totally put off by the idea before, despite the fact that Eden wanted him to do it. He sighs, and Eden feels the mood beginning to die a little.

            "I really want you to do it," she whispers, clutching his handsome face and kissing between his eyes, causing him to close them.

            "I don't want to hurt you. How's me choking you going to take your stress away?" he asks genuinely. Eden begins to plant sinful kisses all along Steve's strong jaw, causing him to tilt his head into her touch. Her lips leave him and he groans. She wraps her hands around his wrists gently.

            "I'll tap your wrists if you're too rough," she promises.

            "I dunno, sweet pea…"

            " _Please_ , Steve. It'll make me happy," Eden explains. And at that, his heart flutters. He would do anything to make this woman happy, but didn't exactly like to think that his hurting her would make Eden in any way happy. He loved her and couldn’t imagine _purposefully_ inflicting any pain on her, whether she _wanted_ him to or not. But she grips at his fingers around her throat until he gives in and applies the faintest pressure there. Massaging feet was one thing, but Steve can feel the delicacy of her windpipe beneath his thumbs, and it scares him to think how easily he can crush it _without even seriously trying_. But Eden moans in such a way that he becomes further aroused, her waist leaning away from the counter to grind against him needily.

            "Yes," she exhales, ever so quietly that he almost doesn't hear it. Her closed eyes smile as much as her lips do. He starts to relax a little bit, but continues to make sure she can get in a breath, her pulse beating excitedly under his palms. She grips his wrists tighter, catching his watchful gaze and nodding.

            "Harder," she says. And he waits until she takes another breath to apply more pressure, this time restricting the airway noticeably. Eden moans, reaching for his shirt and scratching at his collar, lying back atop the counter, pulling him towards her. She bucks her hips against him as best she can, her underwear wetting at the crotch. Steve glances down a second to realize he's rock hard now. He releases Eden's neck and she inhales sharply, looking up at him with frustration to see why he had stopped. She was just beginning to be desperate for an inhale. She finds Steve grinning, unzipping his fly at lightning speed and pulling his khakis and boxers down in unison.

            "You ready for me, honey?" he asks, pausing in pulling at her underwear. She laughs lightly, nodding. The next thing she knows, her black Hanes are on the kitchen floor and Steve is easing himself inside of her. She exhales pleasurably, gripping his wrists which cling to her waist. And as soon as he's sheathed comfortably in her warmth, Eden guides the Captain's hands back to her neck. He grins shyly, pacing his thrusts and gently squeezing around her throat.

            "Harder, Steve," she begs clear as day, and suddenly, he's not sure whether she's referring to his thrusts or his hands at her neck. He decides to be harsher with both and a breath catches in Eden's throat. She stares up into his eyes, clutching his wrists. Steve finds himself fearing to get lost in the moment, as he normally would, for fear of applying too much pressure at his fiancée's throat.

            "Don't worry," she mouths, grinning, nodding, egging him to choke her harder. His fucking makes it difficult for Eden to tell up from down as the need to breathe becomes more intense.

            "You like that?" Steve asks breathlessly, and the question is genuine. Eden finds it difficult to nod under the pressure of Steve's brawny hands and smiles. He eases up on her throat a handful of seconds later, and she gasps for air. The Captain moans, watching himself disappear through her tiny aperture, coating him in a slippery film. Eden sits up under the guidance of Steve's hands, and he slows the pounding of his hips to kiss her messily. Eden's nails dig into the small of Steve's back and he winces only slightly before cupping her throat again, earning another smile.

            Strangely enough, Steve finds himself getting rather into it, enjoying the fact that Eden wanted him to have such control. And he finds it easier to maintain control than he worried about it being. He'd thought he would squeeze too hard and break something—or worse. But not once does Eden tap on his wrist to signal that she wanted him to stop. He carefully restricts her airway until her grip on his wrist tightens, before releasing her enough that she can catch a handful of breaths, never halting the pace with which he fucks her now. He pauses, indicating the imminent end of the session, and as he finishes inside her, he starts when he finds both of Eden's hands around his own throat.

            Of course, his neck is _much_ too thick to encircle entirely, not with her gracile hands, but she squeezes rather hard, and Steve finds himself beginning to draw in his breath with mild difficulty. Instead of pulling away from her, he leans into Eden's hands. She grins like she's going to laugh, while his right hand is still cupping her throat. He's not squeezing enough to restrict her breathing now, however he can tell that she's putting effort into choking _him_. To his surprise, this sudden strangulation heightens the moment. At first, he had looked at Eden as if to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, but there's something sexy about her trying to control him in some way, though her squeezing doesn't cause the Captain any significant irritation.

            Eden smooths her thumbs across Steve's plump, pink bottom lip, marveling at his expression and savoring the moment. He releases her neck to push his hands thoroughly through her hair, catching his breath. He had managed instinctively to pull her as close to his body as he could during climax, and Eden feels him start to leak from her as he gradually exits.

            "Holy cow, honey," Steve breathes, "Well, that was…different."

            "You liked it, Steve, didn't you?" Eden asks, cocking a brow. He grins shyly, avoiding her gaze as he pulls her down off the counter. And then he stands there rubbing her hips absently for several seconds before running a hand over his throat where she had choked him.

            "I didn't hurt you, Steve, did I?" she asks worriedly, eying his neck. To Eden's surprise, Steve laughs. The whole time, _he'd_ been afraid that he would end up hurting _her_.

            "You couldn't do that even if you genuinely tried," he admits.

            "I doubt that," Eden adds, digging her nails into Steve's pecks beneath his t-shirt; neither of them had taken their shirts off. Steve laughs when he realizes that she's actually trying to hurt him.

            "Hey…excuse me, ma'am, that kinda hurts," Steve says, cocking a brow. She continues to claw him with a smile on her face.

            "Hahaha—ouch!" Steve laughs. Eden gasps when Steve grips her neck with one hand, sending her lying flat against the counter again. She grins up at Steve whose brows are cocked with warning.

            "You're right, Edie," he says, sounding turned  on all over again, "That was kinda hot…I could get used to this." She closes her eyes, swallowing with some difficulty as Steve's thumbs massage along her windpipe. She had successfully unleashed kinks the Captain didn't even know he had. He presses harder and for a moment, there are stars, the kind you see when you get punched in the face, and his grip lessens only enough to allow her to inhale, the breath blocked by his supple lips that laugh against her teeth with a newfound sense of mischief.


End file.
